Chapter 16
Thunder crashed,rattling the floors of the mansion. Dove glanced at the glass balcony doors, wincing at the flash of lightning. It was as if the universe knew she intended to disrupt the natural flow. “Would it be too much to expect a balmy evening on the night of an exorcism?”
“Just a passing storm. Nothing to worry about,” Bishop said, shoving the massive bed across the hardwood floor, helping her to prepare.
They’d chosen the former master suite due to the sturdy four-poster bed. That and the personal connection it would have for Marcus. The memories of his parents would help to tether his spirit here. Dozens of candles illuminated the space since too much artificial light would further agitate the demon. Chains rested on the bare mattress. There was no telling how Shadow-Steele would react once they got started.
Shadow. Her heart twisted. He was an innocent in this and yet he would pay the price for another’s crimes. Marcus hadn’t slept in days, refusing to let him rise. She’d had zero contact with the demon since they left the island. No chance to explain. To soften the blow she was about to strike. If this went as she hoped, perhaps in time, he’d forgive her.
“More to the left,” Dove instructed. Everything had to be exact.
Bishop hip-checked the frame, bumping the bed into the center of the pentacle she’d drawn on the floor. Inside the star were multiple smaller images. It had taken her most of the day to duplicate the symbols they needed. Bowls with different offerings were positioned at the tip of each star point. While the one at the top remained empty, the others contained soil, ashes, water, and a feather.
“Good?” Bishop glanced up at her, his thick brow lined with worry. They were both feeling the pressure. If this didn’t go well, Marcus could end up in worse shape than he was currently. That is—if he survived.
“Yep.” She checked the pocket watch she’d borrowed from Archie. Electronics were a no-no when working with powerful spirits. “Almost midnight. Now, all we need is—”
Knuckles rapped on the door. “Speak of the devil.” Earlier, she’d sent Marcus away, his presence rattling her already frayed nerves. Nerves led to distractions. Distractions to mistakes. Tonight, she couldn’t afford to make a single mistake. Goddess, for once, please let me get this right.
Marcus entered the room, and she took in the sight of him, her heart flipping. As per her request, he’d worn black pajama pants, leaving his gorgeous chest bare. While she understood he hated his damaged flesh, she found him beautiful. His left side was coarsely textured, painted in shades of cinder and ash. His right side was smooth and unblemished. Beneath it all, his build was sublime, muscled, powerful. His body was a living work of art. Life and death. Shadow and light. A testament to survival.
Their eyes met, and his harsh expression seized the oxygen in her lungs. He surveyed the space like a warrior preparing for battle. Fierce determination in the hard line of his jaw.
How could he look so determined while she was a quivering mess? If only she had a quarter of his fortitude, she’d be unstoppable. Since she couldn’t change her nature, she’d just have to work with what she had. Pure, unadulterated fear. It was a heady motivator.
“Ready?” Marcus asked in an emotionless tone.
“I think so. I’ve double-, triple-, and quadruple-checked every element and believe everything is in place. Everything but you.” She gestured to the bed.
“Very well.” He stretched out on the mattress on his back.
Bishop picked up the manacles. Casting Marcus a humorless look, he arched one thick eyebrow. “Don’t think this means we’re dating or anything.”
Marcus huffed a disgruntled sound, and Bishop restrained his wrists and ankles. Once he was secured, Marcus tugged on the chain that wrapped beneath the bed. “You’re certain this will hold?”
Bishop answered, his smirk taunting, “No. But it should give us time to run.”
“Well, that certainly puts my mind at ease,” Marcus grumbled. Earlier, he’d raised concerns about Dove’s and Bishop’s safety.
Dove chimed in, eager to reassure him. “I’ve cast a circle as you requested. As long as we stay outside the boundary, we’re protected from both physical and metaphysical harm. You and Shadow will be contained inside.”
She moved to stand beside him. Her blood warmed at the vision of Marcus chained to the bed. No doubt the image would fuel her fantasies for many years to come. Hopefully, this went well and didn’t turn into a nightmare. In her hand was a black eyeliner pencil. “I just need to draw a symbol on your forehead. Do you mind?”
“Proceed,” he said, tone curt. Every muscle in his powerful body was tight with tension. The stress finally peeking through his hardened mask.
She hiked her long skirt up over her knee and sat beside him. Carefully, she drew the mark, then extracted the enchanted talisman from her pocket. The purple crystal fragment was mounted in silver. Sacred symbols inscribed in the setting. She placed it in the center of his chest. “This belonged to my mother and her mother before. The magic it contains is ancient and pure. It will guide us on our path.” The heirloom was Shadow’s only hope for survival.
“Marcus peered up at her. You’ve not mentioned your family before.”
Because he’d never asked.
Regardless, he seemed in need of a distraction, so she gave it to him, though speaking of her family twisted her insides. “For many faeries, our gift is passed down through our mothers. Momma was unregistered, hiding her existence from the Council. She and my father did their best to keep her gift a secret. We moved constantly.”
He frowned. “Your report mentioned it was your father who took you to Havenhouse before he went missing. What happened?”
“One night, Momma didn’t return home. My father found her. She’d been murdered, drained by some unknown creature for the magic in her blood. After that, he became obsessed with tracking down her killer. He insisted I call forth her spirit and ask for information that could lead us to her attacker.” Her throat tightened. “He grew angry when I failed. I was only six and hadn’t fully come into my power. I tried to tell him she’d crossed over, that I couldn’t reach her, but he wouldn’t listen.” She hitched a shoulder as though she wasn’t sharing the most painful moment of her life. “Shortly after, he took me to Havenwood. Left me on the doorstep and walked away.”
Marcus would do the same if this went sideways. Then what would become of her? Since she was claimed, no other vampire could feed from her, but that didn’t mean her blood wasn’t coveted in more sinister circles. With Vivian on the run, she could very well fall into the hands of the Council. Her stomach churned at the thought.
“Dove, look at me,” Marcus demanded, and she raised her eyes to his. “Whether you fail or succeed tonight, I will not forsake you.”
She’d believed the same of her father… and Vivian. She patted his chest. “Thank you for that.” At least, in this moment, he meant it. Time would tell what the future held. She checked the pocket watch. “Two minutes. We need to get started.”
Steely resolve hardened his eyes, and he flexed his arms in the chains. “Ready when you are.”
Dove stepped back, pouring salt to complete the containment circle while she explained. “This will be a bit like separating conjoined twins. There are four stages to the process. First, I focus on your spirit and define the boundaries of your essence. Second, I summon the demon, draw him to the forefront, and do the same with him. Third, I pull you both apart. Once you’re separated, I extract the demon.”
With the salt circle closed, she paused, making her confession. “It’s my hope to trap Shadow inside my mother’s talisman. There, he can reside until I find a way to return him to his dimension.” Shadow would hate her for it, she was sure, since she was placing him in yet another prison. At least he’d have a chance at surviving.
Marcus glared up at the ceiling, settling into his restraints. “I couldn’t give two shits what you do with the bastard. Just get it out of me.”
“Understood.” And she did understand. She just didn’t agree. This she kept to herself because she intended to save them both.
She turned to Bishop. “Are you ready?”
“I’ve got him.” The lycan tapped his ear. He would use his supernatural hearing to monitor Marcus’s heart rate. Also, he’d serve as backup if things became violent.
“Alright. Showtime.” Dove cracked her neck like she’d seen the tough guys do on television. ’Cause it looked cool. She moved to the foot of the pentacle, just outside the circle, and braced her legs. Palms up, she closed her eyes and tipped her face to the ceiling.
“Powers that be, hear me. Earth, wind, fire, water, spirit.” Marcus was the spiritual element, represented by the empty bowl. “I summon you, Marcus Steele.”
Silenced followed.
Did she do it wrong? She tried again, louder. “Marcus Steele, I summon you.”
“Dove?” Marcus said.
“Yes?”
“I’m right here.”
“Oh right. Sorry, just following the directions. Hold on a sec.” She held out her arm, scanning her notes.
Bishop growled. “Tell me you did not scribble cheat notes on your forearms.”
“You want this done right or not?” she snapped at him. “Now, where was I?” She closed her eyes and turned her focus inward, to her third eye. Short breath in. Hold. Long breath out. She repeated the process, diving deeper into her psyche. Deeper into the well at her core—a place she seldom visited. Deeper into the darkest recesses of her gift.
“I summon you, Marcus Steele,” she said in an otherworldly voice. In her mind’s eye, she envisioned Marcus. Well, not Marcus exactly, more of an artist’s interpretation of him. Here, in this disembodied plane, it was the subject, not the artist who created his own masterpiece. His unique essence took shape. Shades of black and slashes of red rendered his form. Gorgeous, moody colors. Dark and dramatic. No one in existence, not even his mother had ever seen this part of Marcus Steele. Dove couldn’t help but be moved by the experience.
Focus, Dove.Mental slap. This wasn’t the time to linger. She studied the rough edges of his spirit and carved a barrier around him. That done, it was time for phase two.
She raised her voice to the universe. “Powers that be, hear me. Earth, wind, fire, water, spirit. I summon you, demon entity.”
Marcus groaned, drawing her attention. She glanced down and found him writhing in his chains. Red lines pulsed beneath his skin. The image branded on his chest glowed with an unnatural light. His powerful body flexed, his spine arching. Holy crap. It was working. Almost.
“Marcus, let go,” Dove urged. “You have to allow the demon to come forward or this won’t work.”
“Can’t,” he grunted, sweat beading his forehead.
Darn it. This was going to be hard enough without him fighting her. “For once, you have to give up control. Let Shadow rise.”
“How?”
Clearly, this was a man who’d never meditated. “Relax. Take a deep breath and exhale slowly.”
Thankfully, Marcus did as she instructed.
“Again,” she said in a gentle voice. “Now unclench your jaw, relax your arms, and let yourself sink into the mattress.”
By degrees, the tension in his muscles eased. He breathed deeply, three times. On the fourth, his body went limp.
Dove inched as close as she dared, biting her lip. “Marcus?”
His head lifted, and he peered back at her, left pupil glowing red. He pulled on the restraints, then scanned his body, scowling.
“Marcus, is that you?”
“Not Marcusss,” Shadow snarled, his tone demonic.
“Oh good,” she exhaled a sigh. “It’s working.”
“What is thisss?” Again, he rattled the chains.
Dove wrung her hands. She’d been dreading this part. Marcus accused her of becoming attached to the creature. He wasn’t wrong. “I’m sorry, Shadow. Truly, I am, but it’s time for you to go.”
He shook his head. “Stay.”
Her throat tightened. “I swear, somehow, I’ll find a way to send you home. No matter what, I won’t abandon you.” Nobody deserved that. Not even demon spirits.
“You are my home,” he said, stabbing daggers into her heart.
She hadn’t imagined it. They’d formed a bond. Which made this all the more difficult. “I’m sorry. This is what Marcus wants. It’s his body you’re inhabiting.”
Shadow lifted his head, snarling at her. “I go. He diesss.”
She shivered at the menace radiating from the demon. “You’d try to kill him?” Was that a promise or a warning?
“Dove, stop engaging the creature and get it done,” Bishop snapped.
“Very well.” She’d hoped to smooth things over with the demon. To make his transition easier. She should have known better.
She held out her hands and turned her focus inward, back to the well of power. “I summon you, demon spirit.” Using her third eye, she brought an image of his essence to mind. Hues of smoke, midnight, and ash took shape. She defined his edges, carving a hard outline around him.
“No,” the demon snarled. Within the circle, shadows swept from beneath the mattress, swirling around the bed. The bedframe rattled, hammering the floor. The demon struggled to free himself, to no avail. When that failed, he gathered the mist in a tight ball and launched it straight at her.
Dove cringed, bracing for impact. Muscular arms snapped around her. Bishop spun, placing himself between her and the projectile. Behind him, the magical dome she’d placed over Shadow-Steele flashed. Inky tendrils curled away from the barrier, vaporizing.
“You okay?” Bishop asked.
Holy cow, the lycan moved fast. No wonder he was Marcus’s bodyguard. Thank goodness the barrier held. She’d hate for him to take a magical bullet for her. “Right as rain.” She shot Shadow a furious look. He glared back at her, unapologetic.
“Best hurry this along,” Bishop said, then gave her some space.
She held out her hands again, dipping deep into her well of power. In the mystical plane only she could see, there were two distinct spirits. While separate, dozens of threads linked them. It was up to her to sever those connections.
Gathering her energy, she clamped a tether around each one. Round and round, tighter and tighter. When both were secure, she squeezed her hands into fists. “Okay, I’ve got them. Now, to separate the two. Ready, Bishop?”
“Ready.”
Power built at her center, rising up from her chest. “Here goes.” She grasped the two spirits and tugged. The threads between them strained, stretched to their limits.
“Arrgh!”Screaming came from the bed, though it was hard to tell if it was Marcus or Shadow.
“Again, Dove,” Bishop growled.
“Got it.” She braced her feet and pulled her fists apart, her arms quivering. Tighter. Harder. Several of the connections snapped, others fraying.
Shadow-Steele thrashed. “No!” He snarled. “Stay!”
The pain in his voice brought tears to her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, try harder,” Bishop barked like a drill sergeant.
“Okay. Okay. I can’t rip them apart like a shifty Hollywood divorce lawyer, you know. It takes finesse.” She gritted her teeth and pulled her shaking fists farther apart. Another inch. Threads snapped, mystical connections shattering.
“Shit. Dove, stop. Something’s happening.”
She cracked her eyes open, peered at the bed, and gasped. Marcus’s damaged skin smoldered, his breathing ragged. “Ahhh!” he screamed, his face contorted. The stench of scorched flesh hit her nose.
“He’s burning,” she cried.
“Just like he did the night of the explosion,” Bishop said, expression dark with torment. “It’s like he’s regressing.”
Only this time, instead of Helen inflicting pain, it was Dove. Bile burned her throat. “Shadow was right. We’re killing him.”
Bishop scrubbed the back of his neck. The medallion on his chest glowed, a sure sign his beast was agitated. He paced around the circle to the head of the bed. “His pulse is weak. I don’t know how much more he can take.”
“Don’t stop,” Marcus said through clenched teeth. “Keep going.”
He stared at her with clear eyes. His face a tight mask of agony. In his straining features, she found no sign of the demon. “You have to keep going.”
“Marcus, I can’t. You’ll die.”
“Do it!” he snarled, head thrashing, charred skin blistering.
Her heart twisted, her mind torn. Tears coursed down her cheeks, and she tightened her grip on the two spirits. One more tug and she’d tear them apart, likely destroying them both in the process. Was that what Marcus really wanted? Had he set her up to be his executioner?
In her gut, she sensed the truth. He believed her malleable. Someone he could bend to his will. An empty-headed faerie with fathomless power at her fingertips. The perfect weapon to aim at his head if things didn’t go to plan. Still, he could give her orders until he was hoarse. For all the control he thought he had over her, the decision to pull that trigger was hers and hers alone.
To destroy life was easy.
To preserve it, much harder.
“Stay,” Shadow-Steele snarled, rising to the forefront again. Perhaps sensing how close he was to losing his foothold on his host as well as his existence.
“What should I do?” She peered at Bishop.
The lycan stared down at his convulsing friend. Remorse in his eyes. “I think you know.”
Thunder crashed. Wind buffeted the mansion and the balcony doors blasted open. Candles snuffed out, casting the room in darkness. In that moment, Dove made the only decision she could.